A new morning,
At the death of an old week.
Skeleton trees reach their bony arms,
Into the sea of rose gold clouds above.

Faint chimney smoke,
From a distant home.
A family who wakes,
And won't see the sky,
In the same way I do.

They will return to their beds,
In the soft clutch of tonight.
And won't stare out the window,
Into the twilight curl,
Of star branches weaved.

I would turn my body into a sunset, if I could [Brooke]
I would [Louis] paint my very soul [Louis] across a desert sky
And when I had gone
When I had faded from this world [Emily] completely [Emily]
I would leave a moonless sky in my wake
Then you could look upon it [Shelby]
And know how much I love you
My love could be written [Julianna] out in constellations,
Like all the myths of the ancient world
I would tell you [Scarlett] how much I love you [Scarlett] , if I could
But alas, it is no small or simple thing
[But alas, it is no small or simple thing]

We sit by the shore,
The sky softly burns with hues of amber
You gaze at the horizon,
I gaze at you,
And between us, the wind carries silence.

“The sunset is beautiful, isn’t it?” I ask softly
You smile,
Hiding the ache at the edge of your lips
“Yes,” you finally reply.

“But like all beautiful things, it, too, must come to an end.”
You fall silent,
Yet your eyes said it all
I know you understand,
This isn’t just about the sunset,
But about us,
Slowly fading, like the sun descending into its rest.

“My part here is done,”
I murmured to the wind,
Hoping it would carry away my words
“My role ends now,”
You turned to me, your face searching for answers,
But neither of us spoke,
Because deep down, we both knew—
This was the final chapter.

The sky darkened,
And I stood,
My feet heavy, but my heart heavier
I knew we couldn’t hold onto the sunset forever.

“I have to go,” I say softly
You don’t stop me, you only nod gently
And as the sun finally disappears
I walk away,
Leaving you beneath the shadow of the night.

The sunset smeared itself across the sky,
a crime scene of color—
red bleeding into orange,
violets bruising the edges.
I stood there, guilty of wanting to call you,
to say,
"Do you see this too? Do you feel it?
Or has the world stopped being beautiful for you
since I became the ghost you refuse to name?"

For a moment,
the colors burned so bright
I almost forgot the sound of your silence—
the way you folded your love into sharp corners,
how you rewrote me as the villain in a story
we never agreed to tell.

Almost.

But then the shadows stretched long,
like they always do,
and I remembered how you used to say
the sky looked like an apology before it turned black.
I laughed, because tonight it did—
looked like you.
A burst of brightness trying to outrun the dark,
fading before it ever stood a chance.

I almost forgot you hate me.
Almost forgave you for it, too.
But sunsets only linger for a breath,
and some things—
like your name in my mouth—
are harder to let go of
than light.

The desert sky is vast
A heavy blue spanning far
Rippling with the sun’s heat

Cacti line the horizon
Like an uneven barbwire fence
As the sky turns to orange

Like a flame licking the world
Dry and thirsty for a drop of water
The sun sinks into the Earth